


Promise me

by Theghostinthemirror



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms
Genre: Based off the princess and the goblin but bAreLy, E/C, F/M, It sounds weird but it will work, I’m more R/C personally but I’m not sure how it will play out Yet, Wow thanks for reading I appreciate all of y’all, fairytales - Freeform, im more into haughty Hugh Panaro Erik so that’s probably what you’ll get, okay it probably won’t but bare with me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-04-19 09:51:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 16,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14234694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theghostinthemirror/pseuds/Theghostinthemirror
Summary: Christine finds herself lost in the woods, small alone and with no way out she makes a promise.It’s been several years and promises were made to be kept.( Based loosely off of Fairytales and the Princess and the Goblin, but still very much Phantom.)





	1. A time before

It had started as a game.  
It was terribly funny when Christine snuck away from her nursemaid, Mama Valerius, as she called her. And it had been terribly funny when she chased after that pretty-coloured bird, that eventually brought her into a lovely little grove. It had stopped being funny once she realized quite how lost she was. That pretty blue bird had gone, and the grove did not seem at all lovely anymore.

It seemed frightening, and even more so when Christine couldn’t remember which way she’d came. From the thickness of the trees, she knew she had to be deep in the forest, but that was of little help or comfort. Without even thinking, the seven-year-old picked a direction, and started to walk.

After a short while it was getting cold, frigid wind began to howl past her, and the sky had turned to an ominous inky orange. Dark clouds had blown in, and among her growing list of regrets, was having left the warm pink cloak she had gotten for her birthday with Mama Valerius. Her small feet were heavy like bricks, hard to move and sore, an ache cascaded throughout her whole body, and her face was flush from tears. Christine raised her hand and tried to wipe away some of her snot and tears, but it didn’t stop the flow of sorrow from cascading down her little face. She could feel a terrible headache building slowly in her forehead, and creeping back around.

Orange turned deeper and deeper, before slipping into pitch blackness. Layered and grey storm clouds blocked the little beacons of light, and Christine’s little body could not withstand much more of her journey. Exhausted from crying, shivering from the cold, and terrified by the all-consuming darkness around her, she found a spot to stop. A tall thick tree, twisted and mangled, yet the closest thing to shelter, she crawled up onto the rock below. Christine then layed up against it, gently tracing her tiny fingers along the ancient thing. There were sounds, howls, growls, chirps, hissing, so Christine began to hum. Perhaps if she stayed in one spot somebody would come and find her. Her father was the king, and he would certainly send a searching party out for her. She just had to be patient and still. Of course, that’s easier said than done. She hummed louder, singing a little lullaby that her mother had once taught her, to drown out the inexplicable noises. 

There was noticeable movement in the darkness. Two small floating orbs, amber as burning coals, were slowly moving towards her. She whimpered feebly in response, burying her head deeply in her knees. lacking the strength to fight or run, even hide. As the orbs moved closer she could identify the loose shape of a person.

“Oh, little thing, what art thou doing in these scary woods? Thou shouldst be in thy home in thy bed. Art thou lost?”

Both gentle and thundering, the voice sounded nearer and nearer, until Christine could fully make out a man.

He was dressed all in black and purple, a loose cloak wrapped around his shoulder and pinned there by a little silver brooch. His head was swallowed by the hood of the fine black cloak. All of his face covered, yet not by the darkness. And after gawking for sometime Christine finally decided that it was a mask.

“ Who are you? Why are you here?” The looming figure over her was less than welcoming, and his odd way of speech unsettled her further. No one ever talked like that anymore, and hadn’t for at least a hundred years, and Christine knew of nobody trustworthy who wore a mask over his face, in fact, she could almost recall being warned of such people. 

With a flourish, he cocked his head upward, yellow eyes flashing down at the little princess with a sweetly haughty gaze.

“Mine name is Erik, I am hither because this is mine home, and 't is mine responsibility to attend to intruders. So I wilt asketh wherefore thou art hither, sweet one.”

“ I...I was playing and I got lost.” She cast her eyes down in shame and sorrow. “ Can you please take me home?” Her little voice tired and cracking, managed to emanate a sliver of hope. Despite the man’s frightening appearance, he seemed to know the forest well, and the castle was probably not too hard to find once you knew where you were. 

She could hear him tsking under the mask. “ thou haven’t even told me thy name, little one.” 

“ Oh, I’m sorry sir. My name is Princess Christine Daaè.”  
She could see a twinkle in Erik’s eyes, as if a wonderful idea had just came to him. They sat in silence for a while, Christine trembling with fear, and Erik deep in thought when He finally spoke.

His words came with a sincerity and seriousness that she had not quite expected. His eyes lowered, and his gloved hands grip upon the surrounding moss tightened, until she felt certain his knuckles had been turned white.

“Thither is a possibility I can taketh thou home, ay. But thou wilt promise me something.”


	2. I’ll think of you all the while

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This ones a little more Raoul/Christine, but Erik will make an appearance soon, I promise.
> 
> Please Review!

Despite knowing the way to the castle like the back of her hand, it was a long walk back for Mama Valerius. She’d dozed off and the little princess had vanished. This was not an uncommon occurrence, although the little girl never meant any harm her mindlessness could make someone’s patience wear thin. She called out to her, but there was no response, and with each passing cry Mama Valerius could feel bile in her throat.

She was now running through the wilderness, screaming like a mad woman, her heart beating at a rapid pace and her blood aflame. There was no sign of Christine anywhere. Eventually deciding that she had accomplished nothing, she went running back to the castle. She knew she’d face punishment, and if they didn’t find the little princess she knew she could even find her neck on a chopping block. Gustave was a kind King, but he wouldn’t be merciful if she wasn’t found. She ran through the gates, her lungs aflame, before shrieking.

“She’s gone! She’s gone! I can’t find her!” The guards immediately let her in and brought her to the King, who upon gazing at the hysterical woman squeezing his daughter’s discarded cloak in her arms, knew what was wrong. “ Where is she? Where’s my baby?” The woman fell to her knees shaking with sobs. “ I..I do not know sir, she...she ran off. I can’t find her!” Gustave darted out the room, barking hoarse orders for search parties. He led one himself. As they rode it began to rain, not only rain, but pour from the sky like a waterfall. This didn’t lessen his will, but emboldened it. If he was facing the rain, odds were that his little girl was too, and her body was far more feeble than his own. She wouldn’t have much time.

Gustave sat on that horse, leather boots wearing against the straps, face wrapped in a thin cloak, for nearly four hours. His men had to drag him back. She was gone.  
Gustave was desolate, he sat at his window and waited to hear back from search parties. When he heard shouting from the courtyard. He made a break for the castle gates. When he arrived there, a cloud of soldiers huddled around a little bundle, forcing his way through, he cast his eyes to the bundle.

Gustave looked down at his daughter, her dress was torn, her hair matted, her face scraped. And yet she had been lovingly placed on the castle doorstep, wrapped in a thick quilt.

There she was, exhausted and weak, yet safe. It was a proper mystery as of to how she’d gotten there. Somebody would’ve had to have spotted her deliverer, and surely that person would want to stick around, hungry for a reward. No one, not a single soul saw or claimed to be her saviour. 

The mystery was not solved when the child woke, either. After being cleaned and taken care of, her father and nursemaid asked her who her rescuer was. The enigma only deepened when the little girl told them that she had remembered and Angel coming to rescue her. This, however, was written off as nothing more than a hallucination caused by exhaustion and fear.

They examined the quilt she’d been wrapped in, it too, held nothing of significance. It was pinned closed with a black pendant of a falling rose, but that was an ancient symbol, one that someone had found at thought suitable.

Not that any of that mattered, Gustave was just happy to have his little girl back in his arms. Even if it was exceedingly strange how she couldn’t remember anything, she was safe, that’s all that counted. 

The next week she met up with a close friend of hers. His name was Raoul de Chagny, and as the son of a neighbouring king came on business with his father. The two of them ran round in the courtyard, as Christine told him all about being lost in the woods and the strange Angel that saved her. Raoul had laughed, stating that she didn’t need an Angel, for she was one herself. Then the two ran about the rose garden, giggling and joking as they played pretend. 

In their little fantasy land, Christine was lost in the woods, and Raoul played the part of her rescuing Angel. Their parents, watching the display, decided that they’d put on a little play with the two. The play went through, and was an incredible success. Christine loved performing in front of others, and loved it even more when Raoul kissed her forehead as the script called for. 

As they grew, it became quite obvious that the two of them would wed one day. It would be a wonderful match, good for both the kingdoms and the children. After all, they were both very much in love.

The forest incident was all but forgotten by the time Christine turned sixteen. Christine had recently been engaged to Raoul whom she loved very dearly, and was heartbroken to find out that he had to leave for a few months on a military campaign in England. Although, it was fairly clear that he’d return soon enough, and when he did they’d be wed and everything would work out fine. Not that it ever stopped her from fussing over it, though. She met him at his official parting ceremony, and was the last to bid him farewell.

“ Farewell, Raoul. Please hurry back.”

Raoul gently reached forward and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“ I will. And I will think of you all the while I am gone.”

And with that she sobbed gently into his coat. She almost couldn’t bare the thought of facing her birthday without him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bad one, and I’m sorry it took so long. I’m currently in the process of transferring high schools and that takes a lot of my time. I’ll pick up soon.


	3. To clear your head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I lied a little! Erik makes no confirmed appearance, but a darkened intruder interrupts birthday celebrations.
> 
> Please comment and review!

Christine’s birthday came around much faster than she had anticipated. She was turning sixteen, and her father was planning a gigantic party. Christine didn’t care for it. In fact, she was quite certain that the only thing that would make it a happy birthday would be if Raoul came. Gustave was equally as eager for the boy to return. He knew that he was weakening, he knew that he didn’t have much time left, and Christine couldn’t be left alone when he passed.

He tried to hide it from her, but as it went on it became more and more apparent. He was becoming thin, something he passed off to Christine as old-age. He was coughing more and more violently, “ Years of smoking.” He’d say. But it was getting worse, and he couldn’t shelter her from it forever, His only wish was to live to see her marriage. He was dying, and Christine was a clever girl, and she’d put things together sooner or later.

Nevertheless, the boy would return soon, and he’d be distracted with Christine’s birthday until then. He threw himself into party planning, trying to avoid the unstoppable. 

Christine went through all necessary things required for a coming of age party. She sat through dress fittings, went over her speech, picked out decorations and whatnot, however she simply couldn’t be roused from her unhappiness. Raoul was all she could think of. What if his ship was caught in a storm? What if it sinks? What if he’s thrown overboard? What would happen then? Would they be able to bury his body? She wouldn’t even be able to get married! Then who would she marry? She only knew of Raoul in that way.

Mama Valerius did her best to keep Christine’s mind off of it. Unsuccessfully for the most part, but Christine tried to humour her aged Nursemaid. However life went on without Raoul, no matter how much it hurt Christine to think it. And the eve of her party soon arrived. She came in a fashionable silver gown, it was heavily embroidered, and any other girl would’ve been pleased with it. But Christine only wished that her fiancé could see her in it. They had dancing, but Christine only longed for one partner. They had a feast with lots of little cakes, but Christine lacked an appetite. Frustrated, Gustave sent his miserable daughter out for a walk in the garden. “ To clear your head.”

Christine, heading his advice, walked out towards the roses. It was dark, and the moonlight glistened upon the red petals like dew. He’d be back soon, and then they’d be walking through the roses together. And then they’d be married, and have lots of cute little children and be happy. Just like she wanted. Clutching her diaphragm and sighing, Christine forced herself to smile and went to turn back toward the party.

Casting her gaze around, she wasn’t in the garden. She wasn’t even in the courtyard. She found herself a few feet away from the entrance to the forest. Christine chided herself for her mindlessness, wondering how she’d even gotten herself that far to begin with. And angrily huffed back to the castle. Slipping in through the back doors she regained her composure and reintroduced herself to the party. She even worked up the happiness to dance. She danced with several different partners, giggling to herself as she watched her lady-in-waiting and best friend Meg, making out with the stable-boy Pierre from under the dining table. As her friend came out from her hiding spot, Christine slipped away from her dancing partner and approached her companion.

“ Subtle.”

Meg turned around, cherry-red with embarrassment. “ It was obvious?” Christine nodded her head, “ I noticed.”

With a great heave of relief Meg continued. “ Oh, thank goodness, you’re different.” With that the two burst into laughter st each other. “ Oh I’m glad you’re having fun, Christine. You’ve been almost comatosed since he left, honestly you’d think you’re already married.” Christine countered with a chuckle.

“ Yeah I guess. He wouldn’t want me to be frowning at my birthday.”

“ Oh Look, be casual about it.” Meg said, pointing gently towards the corner of the ballroom. “ What!?” Christine yelped, as she turned to visibly gawk. Meg gave her a sharp elbow in return. “ Look at lady Carlotta! Dressed as Queen Cleopatra!” Christine snickered in response, “ Where’s she dressed?”

With that the two girls nearly doubled over in hysterics. Gustave caught sight of his daughter from the other side of the ballroom. He smiled, glad that she was finally enjoying herself at her own party. Turning his attention to a finely dressed woman in black who’d come to his attention. He shuddered. It was Madame Giry. Christine’s best friend’s mother, and his former tutor.

Antoinette Giry was a stern woman. Despite the celebrations she wore all black, her just as dark hair pulled back into a taught bun. She carried herself tall, and carried a cane, one used less for walking and more to punish disobedient pupils. Yes, even though he’d grown and was now a King, Gustave shuddered at the sight of his old teacher. “ Good evening, Madame.” She nodded her head in a bow. “ Good evening, Your highness.”

Gustave gestured for Giry to follow him to the table, where they could sit and talk. “ How do you fare, old friend?” Madame Giry smiled, “ Well as I can, since the death of Marcus.” Gustave lowered his head in respect, “ I’m sorry for your loss.” The woman raised her head. “ Oh don’t bother, Marcus died years ago we both know that.” And the duo nodded solemnly. “ What brings you here? Other than the party of course.” 

“ A few matters, I am afraid. I have come to speak with you about how inappropriately you’ve been behaving regarding Christine’s betrothal.” Gustave was taken aback, “ Whatever do you mean?” Giry raised her brow in confusion, before knitting her features into a portrait of concern.

“ You don’t know? I told Meg to tell you! Oh heavens!” The woman looked down, her face a mask of worry. “ Heard what?”

“ The vision I had!” Gustave had never believed in fairy-tales, and certainly not psychics. While he held a great deal of respect for the woman, he highly doubted that she’d ever had any kind of visions that were more than deluded fantasy or hallucinations. “ What vision?” Gustave asked the woman, fully intending to disregard the woman’s words and soothe her worry. 

“ Christine isn’t supposed to marry that boy! I can feel it! I have been told so many times by whispers both in my dreams and in the darkness. You know of the ways of the ancients, of their spirits and—“ Gustave cut the woman off in a breath. “ Madame, you know I do not believe in spirits. It is a good union, they are happy and it is a great match.”

A chill went through the great hall. One that every soul present could feel. Something was wrong. That was easy enough to know.

After dismissing Madame Giry Gustave called the night to an abrupt close. Soon retiring to his bed.

That night, he could hear the voice of his late wife telling him to wake, over and over again she repeated it. Finally Gustave rushed to life and raced to see his daughter. She was sat up in her bed, an absolute cold sweat drenching her body. He could hear shouting at the front gates. 

Somebody had barged into the throne-room demanding to speak with him. And Gustave felt the air go completely cold. Leaving Christine with Mama Valerius Gustave walked into the throne-room.

At the base of his throne was a figure, dark and looming. He wondered if he was finally dying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I PROMISE more Erik next time!


	4. Easily made, Easily broken.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A promise made is a bargain done.
> 
>  
> 
> Comment and review!

Gustave moved slowly. His trembling hands running along the wallpaper as he slowly stepped into the glistening red room. With a great breath, he climbed the short steps to his throne and sat down. Staring at his shaking hands. Why was he so frightened? He was was the king, he’d met many of intimidating people before. Many had even threatened to kill him and he was still alive. Gustave’s gaze turned upward, to meet the figure before him. Male. That was the first observation. Clearly a man, and a tall one at that. He was dressed finely, if darkly. He wore all black, little glints of purple and silver adornment but that was few and far between.

His eyes traveled to the man’s chest, almost fearful of catching his eye. On his cloak he wore a brooch, a silver one, with a falling rose. Pretty. Gustave thought. Swallowing hard he moved towards the man’s face.

There wasn’t one.

Only a plain white visage, no nose, no mouth, just a plain, white mask. He finally caught the man’s glare, yellow and glowing. He paused, human eyes didn’t glow in the dark? Did they? Only animal’s eyes. Wolves eyes. Stabilizing himself and looking bravely forward, Gustave opened his mouth.

“ W-What is the concern? Who are you?” A voice, trained in calmness and regality was trembling.

“Mine name is Erik. I hast cometh hither to taketh payment.” The man’s voice, despite its bluntness carried a near musical ring that very much unsettled the nervous King. It was no more comforting that he spoke with an accent forgotten long ago.

“ You’ve hardly answered my questions. Who are you? What payment.”

‘ Erik.’ Scoffed, amber eyes flashing at the King in clear annoyance. “ I wilt speaketh to the Princess, 't is more of her concern than thine.”

“ N-No, you certainly will not! Who are you? What do you want?”

“ I wanteth what I was promised! Art thou yond oblivious, old man? Doth thou not recognize me thou fool?” The man’s tone had raised, and as Gustave sat on his throne he found himself clinging to the armrests.

“ I-I am afraid I don’t recognize you. W-W-what, exactly, were you promised.”

Tawny eyes glittered back at him. Perhaps this was death, perhaps he was dying...

“ Father? Father what’s going on?” Gustave glanced around the corner, Christine was standing there. Clearly frightened, yet there all the same. “ Who’s there?” Gustave’s heart dead stopped when he saw how ‘ Erik’ was looking at her. So intently, so passionately, so gently. Flaming yellow eyes reduced to honey in her presence. “ Christine please go back to your room. Everything’s fine.”

“ Father you’re shaking—” Christine glared up at her father, completely disregarding the stranger just before her. Her father sat on his throne, in his nightshirt, hair messed, trembling. “ Father you need to go to bed, surely this can wait until morning.” Stepping towards the throne her father caught her arm, squeezing it tightly.

“ Christine..” she turned her attention to the stranger who’d uttered her name. Dark and scary, that was about the only way to describe him, it was clear that it couldn’t wait till morning. “ Christine...” he spoke her name near reverently. “ Who are you, what do you want?”

“ Christine...Doth thou recall me? Doth thou recall thy promise? I recall.” The man crept slowly towards the throne, towards Christine, extending out his hand, the same reverent gaze infecting him.

Her father squished her arm. “ Alright, enough. Enough! Christine go back to your room. I’ll deal with this.”

The man’s eyes glimmered with frustration and the doors in the room slammed shut. “ Don’t interrupt me, Thou old goat.” Gustave grabbed his daughter’s hand. “ Christine, what promise? What is he talking about?” Christine shook her head and looked at her father hopelessly. She was just as lost as he was.

“The promise thou did maketh me in the woods...” She stared at him dumbly. “ Who are you? What are you talking about?”

“ In the woods! When thou was just a babe, and lost, don’t thou recall? Thou did swear to be mine bride, don’t thou recall? And I did tell thou yond I would cometh for thou at which hour thou cometh of age. And hither I am.” His eyes glittered, Christine closed her eyes as fuzzy ideas filled her head. Mangled trees, a dark sky, a silver brooch.

And Gustave shifted uncomfortably in his seat, lost? As a child? Memories flooded back to him. Yes, Christine did get lost as a child, they never did find who rescued her. Perhaps she made some silly promise, yes, but that didn’t mean anything. Promises were not oaths or contracts, after all. They could be easily broken and just as easily forgotten. Clearly, this, ‘ Erik’ had clung to the idea of marriage much too tightly. He could be easily bribed away.

“ Perhaps as a child she made some silly promise. That’s hardly her fault, she couldn’t have understood what the consequences of such an action would be. She is engaged now, to someone appropriate and worthy of her status. I’m very sorry for your inconvenience and I will—”

The man’s eyes grew wide with anger.

“ Nay! Thou misunderstand thou old fool! To thou a promise may be easily maketh and easily broken, but a promise to me is binding!”

Christine stepped forward. “Who are you?!” Gustave simply stared stupidly at the figure before him. He didn’t believe in fairytales. It was utterly impossible for the man to be who he took him for. That was simply not possible. But the more he gazed at the ethereal man before him, the more it finally clicked. He had to be some kind of spirit, he couldn’t be human.

“ She can’t be married right now! She is engaged, surely we can negotiate something...” Gustave swallowed his fear, he knew full well that Fae spirits did not function the same way as humans. A promise to one was something that could be held up for years and years, something you could never take back.

“Very well. I’ll giveth thou a fortnight to prepare. But at which hour thy time’s up I wilt cometh for thou, and thither wilt be nay disobedience.” The man finally relenquished. 

“ Absolutely not! Like I would ever marry _you!”_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! In this chapter Erik finally makes his appearance! Let me know if you need any clarification on the promise or Erik’s use of old English, and whether or not it should keep it. ( I like the way it separates him so far, but let me know if it’s disruptive.)
> 
> Comment and review!


	5. Everything will be okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gustave and Christine start studying up. And the De Chagny’s receive a distasteful letter.
> 
>  
> 
> COMMENT AND REVIEW!

“ Christine, go to your room.” Gustave’s voice was dangerously quiet, he knew she was upset, but also knew that she was being very reckless. “ Father!” Her voice was angry. She wasn’t going through with this, that much was apparent. “ I’m already engaged! What are we going to do? Cancel it a month before the wedding?”

“ Christine. Go to your room. I’ll take care of it.” Insenced, Christine darted out of the throne room, slamming the door hard behind her. Who did this person think he was? How was any of this fair?? She fell into her room and sobbed, screaming and crying. She smashed her face into her pillows, tearing at her sheets. This was not fair. None of this was fair at all. What had she ever done to deserve this?

Gustave sat in the throne room, unsure of how to speak to the man before him. He was absolutely fuming, Gustave swore he could almost see smoke coming out of his tawny gaze.

 “ I-I’m very sorry for her behaviour..”

Erik curtly nodded his head, “Well, I’m sure thou’ll taketh care of 't, seeing as the lady’s thy daughter.” 

Gustave cleared his throat succinctly before speaking again. “ I-This isn’t her fault. She’s only a child, and as she said, we’ve already prepared everything with the Chagnys.”

“ thou hast, aye? The fates hast already dictated our wedding, thither’s nay needeth to prepare.” 

With that simple phrase, the man pulled his cloak round him and vanished. Gustave was left with only the ominous promise of a fortnight. What was he going to do? Tell his daughter he was going to give her to some crazed Faerie? Oh, it’d break her little heart not to marry Raoul. Speaking of which...what was he to tell the De Chagnys? 

“ Oh sorry my daughter made a promise when she was a toddler and now she’s getting married to a Faerie. Sorry for your inconvenience, meet for lunch Thursday?” What a ridiculous idea. He had to find out more about the man. There were lots of books on Fae creatures, and their realm. Many Faerie stories centre around the idea of getting out of a promise to them. Perhaps he’d find something useful if he looked. It would at least be useful to know what  _kind_ of Faerie Erik was. So, in the middle of the night, Gustave sent urgent word to Madame Giry.

 The next morning Gustave met his daughter for breakfast. Her hair was a mess, her normally bright face dampened with dark circles, and her face blotchy red. She had cried the whole night.

 “Father, do you think God’s punishing me?” 

“ Whyever would he punish you?”

Christine glanced at the table, ringing her hands in the tablecloth. “ I...I don’t know, papa.”

“Everything will be okay, Christine.” 

There was silence a long while. There was nothing either could say, no way to comfort the other. So they just sat and ate with a horrible fog dangling over their heads of the unspeakable subject.

“ What are we going to do?” She asked at last, wiping her nose with a handkerchief.  
“ I’ve called Madame Giry, she should be able to help. He was very vague, so hopefully we can find out more of him and figure out a way to get out of this. There’s no way that any little promise was iron-clad. Do you really not remember any promise?”

Christine was still. “ I don’t. I’m sorry.” With a dissappointed nod her father changed the subject. “ Yes, well, surely we’ll figure something out. Where there’s a will there’s a way!” She quietly chuckled, “ Yeah, I guess so.”

Madame Giry arrived early. Even without the summons, she’d heard of the intruder. The whole kingdom had. They thanked her for coming and sat in the library, anxiously relaying everything that had happened to her. Gustave and his daughter sat in shocked awe as she effortlessly plucked a book from the shelf. Her aged white fingers slipping over the yellowing parchment paper. With a thump she placed the book open to a page, it showed a cloaked figure, with nothing but the words. ‘ Faerie King.’ Gustave nearly slammed his head into the fine oaken table. Fantastic, not only a Faerie, but a Faerie King! Reading onward the stern woman began to explain that he was from the unseelie court, and that it wouldn’t be wise to spurn him. Of course, Christine was heartbroken and ran off to her bedroom, Gustave could hardly blame her. He was left with a rambling psychic and an increasingly worrying letter to write the de Chagnys.

Raoul was very happy when he arrived home from his trip. He was ready to meet Christine and tell her all about his travels in England. His joy was only further inticed when he found he had mail, particularly when he realized that it was from the Daaè’s. He’d eagerly torn through the red wax seal, hoping to have received a letter from Christine. What he ended up getting, though, left him with more questions than any sort of answers.

_Honerable De Chagny family,_

_I write this letter with a heavy heart. A situation occurred over the period of time that the Prince happened to be away. I believe that it can be resolved, with a little help. Please come to the celebration next week to speak further about the matter._

_—-His Highness, Gustave Daaé._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bit of a slog to write, and it’s not the best. the next one will have a bit more action, I promise. Comment and review!


	6. I’ll keep you safe till morning comes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christine’s memory is triggered. And comfort is only found in the arms of a lover.
> 
> COMMENT & REVIEW!

Her little hands were knotted tightly around the tattered blue dress. She rhythmically kneaded the fabric, attempting not to glance up at the man before her.

Erik reached out, tilting the little girl’s head to face his own.

“Thou hast to swear that at which hour thou art older thou wilt marry me. I wilt taketh very valorous care of thou, and thou wilt be very joyous.”

The little girl cast her gaze downward, thinking over the promise. What did it matter? That wouldn’t be for a long time, and he’d have to ask her papa first anyway. And glancing at the knarled trees, rubbing her exhausted red eyes, perhaps marrying someone wouldn’t be so bad. It’d be better than spending the night in the forest, alone, tired, cold and hungry. And those sounds in the wilderness...

“You’ll take me home?” The fierce amber softened considerably, gently nodding. “ Aye.” 

“ I promise.”

 

Christine awoke with a start. Panting and in a cold sweat she glared around the room. Nothing, there was nothing, she was safe. Springing to her feet  Christine lit up the candles and strode across the room to take seat at her desk. She needed to write it all down. As she sat there, in her nightgown frantically writing every little detail of her dream, her room was very cold. So, she lit the fire. Still cold. So she sat at her desk wrapped in a blanket but the feeling didn’t go away.

 “Christine....?” 

Utterly delerious she screamed and ran into her father’s bedroom. Nearly giving the poor man a heart attack. Restlessly she told him what happened as the sat side-by-side.

 “It’s okay, everything’s okay. I’m sure that all you heard was a little creak or rustle.”  So they stayed like that, close to each other, for the rest of the night.

The celebrations were fast coming and so were Gustave’s plans. It was only proper for a man to ask the father for a woman’ s hand in marriage. He had every right to refuse. He only had to trick the Faerie into asking.

Word of what had happened traveled fast, and soon both Raoul and his elder brother were made aware of the ‘ Situation.’ As Gustave had put it. They were eager to meet with the family and discuss. What a horrible embarrassment if the engagement were to be called off...Philippe greatly pitied his younger brother. He’d be heartbroken if the wedding didn’t happen. But there was precious little Philippe could do.

Other than threaten Gustave into sticking to the engagement. But that itself put the man between a rock and a hard place, was he to anger a country, or spurn something magical? Philippe pitied Gustave too. He had no emotional investment in the marriage, he only knew that it would be a good alliance and marriage of this brother. He also knew that if they lost the engagement to a different suitor, no matter how magical, it’d be a stain in the family name. And hard to find anyone else for Raoul to wed.

Raoul himself was broken. He wanted to talk to Christine, he knew she had to be frightened, and although he was frightened too he wanted to be there for her. He wanted to be there to comfort her, to make her feel better.

He soon got the opportunity. Philippe was leaving to speak with Gustave about the ‘ Situation.’ And Raoul insisted in coming along with his elder brother.

When he saw the castle in the distance, he abandoned his procession and called for his horse. Raoul didn’t care that he was become speckled with mud, he raced off towards the castle. He came bursting through the castle gates, leapt off his horse and begged to see Christine. He didn’t have to wait long, for she came bounding out of the castle and straight into his arms. She buried her face in his neck and he gently wrapped his arms back around her. The two then absconded to the garden together. 

The yellow and pink roses were glimmering, especially in the tangerine coloured light of the sunset. Although Raoul couldn’t help but notice that Christine was glittering more than any flower. At first he thought it might be her pretty creamy white dress, but then decided it had to be her beautiful face, or perhaps her dark bouncing curls, or just her very presence beside him.

They walked hand in hand, like sweet eager schoolchildren. Occasionally Christine’s little white fingertips would graze against the petals of a delicate flower, and for a long while there was no mention of anything out of the ordinary. He told her of London, and all the things he’d seen on his sailing trips, and she told him of how much she’d missed him while he was away. If you’d have just looked at them, you’d never guess that there was a darker undercurrent that neither wanted to acknowledge.

Eventually, when they had nothing left light-hearted to say, Christine settled herself at the base of the angel statue in the yard, finally daring to mention what both had been worrying.

“ I hope your brothers not here to call off the engagement,”  
Raoul sat next to her and sighed. “ He’s not. He’s here to talk about the....”  
“ Situation?”  
He nodded. “ I’m scared, Raoul.” She whimpered, gently togging in the buckle of his vest. “ I am too. But I’m sure everything will be fine. I’ll protect you.”  
“ How can you be certain?”  
“ I can’t, but I can be certain that I love you, Christine, and there’s no god that would tear us apart.”  
Christine nearly cried with joy, “ I love you! Oh I love you!”  
He coiled his fingers around her dark locks of hair, and she nuzzled further into his chest. They lay at the base of an angel, snuggled together, intertwined in nearly every way. They murmured words of comfort to each other, and radiated in the others presence.

For the first time since the incident, Christine felt safe. Here she was perfectly safe, here safe in the embrace of her childhood sweetheart. So little was certain, but Raoul was. His arms were warm and strong, they held her tightly but did not suffocate or cause her any discomfort. They protected and guarded from what terrified her more than anything.

Here they were safe, and they stayed secure in each other's arms till morning. Afraid, but shielded by each other.

How were they ever to know that someone was watching over them? And not an angel, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha! I’m glad I got this one out. It jumps around a little, and I’m sorry if it’s a bit disorienting. Once again if the old English is confusing let me know, I can translate for you, ( I’m in the process of getting rid of Erik’s old English, but I think it’ll be more of a transition than a change.) 
> 
> Also sorry to those who ship e/c there’s some r/c fluff in this one, although I’m still not sure which ship will win out ultimately.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> COMMENT AND REVIEW


	7. Fourteen days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fortnight is only fourteen days long, and that’s hardly enough time to look over a contract.
> 
> Comment & Review!

Is it possible to be dead and alive at the same time? Surely not. But in those moments Erik could’ve sworn he’d died, that he’d died in a painful, seething fire. There he stood, crouching in the darkness like a lech, burned by a fire kindled by envy.

Erik is being bad. Erik should not spy on Christine, she is already betrothed to him. Erik is being bad. But frankly, Erik was ceasing to care about his inner thoughts. He felt his tawny bird-like eyes narrow and well with tears. Raoul ran his fingers through Christine’s velvety brown curls.

Erik looked on in agony. His tears fell easily now, dripping down the ivory of his mask. He had seen enough. Christine had betrayed him. He’d given her a single promise to follow and she’d broken it. She was betrothed to him, and yet she lay there, cuddling with her boy. He didn’t need to see any more. But still he stood there, watching, looming over their seemingly oblivious bodies. Erik could feel a heat from inside him, starting in his stomach and working its way up to the back of his throat. It was a howl of torment that he swallowed, for surely if he let it go then he’d never stop screaming. He watched the Prince’s strong hands fumble with Christine’s pristine chestnut locks. He wanted to grab those hands, those strong, pale hands, and cut them off. Then he couldn’t put his clumsy hands in her perfect hair, or wrap them around her sweet little waist.

Perhaps he could remove his china blue eyes as well, so he couldn’t gaze into Christine’s beautiful brown ones. Then, Erik decided, his lips. So that he may never kiss her again, so that Erik would never have to watch him defile her plump little blossom lips. I am being bad. Erik is being bad, killing the boy is bad…. Erik stopped dead in his thoughts, watching as Christine stood up on her tip-toes, and planted another kiss on the Prince, who’s immediate response was surprise, before passionately returning the kiss. Erik is not being bad. Christine is being bad. She promised.

Salty tears turned bitter, and Erik stormed off to think.

The next morning, when Raoul left to discuss with his brother, Christine was going through her things. She’d been feeling very nostalgic, and dearly missed her mother. Perhaps because she was about to be married soon, although to whom she couldn’t be certain. Entertaining the idea of finding an old locket, she stumbled upon a new chest in her closet. Naturally, she opened the box. Inside were the most beautiful dresses she’d ever seen.

One was light pinky violet with a mint green cloak, one was a beautiful dark blue, speckled with roses that looked as if someone had plucked from the ground and embroidered somehow onto it. The last of them was a pure white, embroidered with lots of little gold thread detail, with what appeared to be real flowers around the bodice, and a veil with the same yellow flowers. Each dress suited to her measurements. As Christine admired the craftsmanship of the gowns, she noticed a little slip of paper at the bottom of the chest.

At the very bottom, was a little handwritten note. It was in red ink, and written with a childish hand.  
‘I desire thou enjoy these gifts, mine love. They’re especially for thou.’

Christine could feel her throat constrict, and her stomach drop and twist itself tight into a knot. Christine went straight to her father with the little red letter, and found him rubbing his temples in the dining hall. She showed him the little letter, explaining to him what had happened, and he gasped back at her.

He had recived three chests of valuables. Exotic fabrics, sapphires, rubies, pearls, crowns, tiaras, and a Beautiful golden chalice. He’d also recived a letter, proclaiming that this was all a ‘ Dowry.’ For marriage. And the letters certainly weren’t from the de Chagnys, who’d already paid a dowry.

Gustave immediately ordered both chests to be burned. And there was nothing left to do about the matter.

Daysvof deliberation with the De Chagnys went on and on and eventually it came to the conclusion that Christine would have to marry Raoul, and that something else would have to be sorted to deal with the Faerie.

Of course, none of the meetings had offered any solutions to the mounting issue. Talk, talk, talk.  
“ We can’t call it off!”  
“ Yes, then what shall we do?”  
“ We’re working on it,”

Working on it indeed, Gustave thought bitterly. What could he do? Sure he was a King, but in reality he was little more than a man, a father. There was nothing he could fathom even attempting, sure, they’d cancelled the Solstice celebrations for further conversation. But that bought them only three days, and in four it’d have been a fortnight. The stress of it all had pushed Gustave only further into his illness, and one of his only joys was watching the young couple galavanting out in the garden.

Christine and Raoul spent more time together, every day they’d be stuck to each other like tar. It made Gustave, through all the stress and illness, remember a warm nostalgia. His own wife, Lisette, had died many years ago. He’d met her when he was just a young man, a bravado-fueled little boy, very much like Raoul. He couldn’t bare to tear the two apart. There had to be a loophole somewhere, he had only to find it. Of course, that was definitely easier said than done.

Days passed, little happened. Only more meetings, more research, more nothing.

August 25th came much too fast. Gustave had expected a fight, and none came. Nothing came all day, actually. Foolishly tricking him and his daughter into feeling safe.

Perhaps he’d only been making hollow threats, lying. It wasn’t unlike Fae to lie and trick. Perhaps everything would be perfectly fine, and Christine would get to marry Raoul as she wished.

That night, Christine shortly visited her mother’s grave, leaving flowers behind. Then she retired to her own chambers. She’d never felt any more relieved in her life. Everything was fine. And for the first time in fourteen days, Christine slept soundly.

“ Christine...? Christine....?”

Christine sprang up from her bed, leaving the warm quilt behind, she trudged towards the window. Perhaps if she let in a little cool air she’d feel better. Half-conscious, Christine’s fuzzy gaze reached a chest in the corner. Opening it, her curiosity peaked, her sleepiness vanished.

They were the very same dressed she’d recived earlier, as a gift. She wanted to scream, but didn’t find herself able at all. Instead, numbly, she went to the doorframe to inform her father. A cold weight on her shoulder startled her, and she moved to push it off. A hand, and the other snaked around her waist. Again, she couldn’t scream.

“ We shouldst leaveth now, love.”

...And what she feared most was real. Struggling, she found one arm seized, before being lifted clean off the ground. Squealing, screaming and flailing she never felt the man’s strength waiver. Nobody was coming, either. But she was being loud, wasn’t she? She was screaming! There were soldiers just outside her doors, why could nobody hear her shrieking?

Panic, panic, panic. But the man seemed very calm, as if she were not screaming or struggling, his wolf-like eyes glimmered down at her with nothing but love. Despite his expression covered fully, clearly grinning. “ I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! Put me down! I’ll never marry you, I hate you!” After at least an hour of this, Christine tired. She didn’t even bother to fight anymore, she was tired, and clearly her vitriol was doing nothing but exhaust her further.  
“ Did let’s go home now, sweet. I’ll taketh care of thou.”  
His voice too was calm. Everything was dark, she couldn’t see. She panicked, horrified she may have gone blind and tearing up with horror. She found herself being gently rocked back and forth like an infant. She opened her eyes, not quite sure if she even wanted to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It finally happened. Once again of you need any translations let me know.
> 
> Comment & Review!


	8. Worn brick and wisteria.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New surroundings can be more than they appear.  
> Comment and Review!

Christine’s fingers knotted tightly around smooth sheets. She rolled over comfortably, remaining prisoner of her soft warm bed awhile longer. She felt something brush the hair out of her face, petting the back of her head. Rubbing her eyes, she lifted her body up onto her forearm. It took her several moments to process that she wasn’t in her room. And a little longer to remember what had happened the night before. Christine then noticed the dark figure looming just beside her.

 __She screamed. Or at __least, tried too. She found she couldn’t open her mouth. Panicking she raised hand to her lips, trying to pry them open but found that she couldn’t. Her pink lips had become sealed tightly shut.

“ That, sweet ladybird, is to keepeth thy venomous words from coming.”

Christine glared up at the man dumbly. She was so scared. So absolutely completely horrified. Christine rolled over away from him and began to shake and sob with terror. She could feel the man’s hand stroke her like some kind of pet, vaugely hearing foreign words of comfort, but she maintained her utter hysteria. “ Cometh, cometh, cease this insolence. If 't be true thou concur to obey than thou may speak.” Stupidly Christine nodded, which was just about all she was capable of. With a huge gulp of air she felt her lips part, and she started to choke on her own tears. “ D-don’t touch me! Take me home!” The Faerie said nothing, and only sat by her side trying to soothe the screaming girl. “ Recall what I did do sayeth about thine venomous words, sweetling?”

He spoke in a tone not unlike a father scolding his naughty child.

Christine was still for a long time, closing her eyes and only waiting for Erik to leave. But he did not. Instead he sat still at her bedside, petting her arm ever-so-gently. “ Don’t touch me.” She hissed, it was about all she could think to do to get his hands off of her.

“ Don’t touch thou? Thou art not so very hostile with yond boy! Thou’d did let him nestle right up 'gainst thou, and declare nothing. But at which hour thy rightful betrothed is near thou, thou tremble with fear?” 

 _“ You_ __ __are _not_ __ __ __ _ ****_ **** **** _ ****_ _ ****_ _ ****_ __my betrothed!”

Christine growled through clenched teeth, springing herself up from the bed and pushing herself into a sitting position.

“ How dare you steal me away from my home in the middle of the night? How dare you claim to be my fiancé, when you know I’m betrothed to another? How pitiful of a creature are you to force someone who loathes you to marry you because of some stupid promise they made when they were only a child!?”

Christine watched the uncovered eyes switch hue from yellow to deep amber. Christine swallowed, feeling a lump swell in her ever tightening throat. She didn’t regret her words, or rather, she regretted saying them, but not their meaning.

“ Thou dare to speaketh to thy future husband that way? Thou dare to defy me? I’ve been very patient, little girl. I’ve been very understanding, little girl. I’ll not accept such treatment from thou, and thou’ll learneth that lesson now or thou’ll learneth later.”

Christine stalled with horror, before flinging herself out of the bed and fumbling her way out of the room. Everything was new and unfamiliar, she had positively no sense of direction and only followed the path that made the most logical sense. Out the door, through a hallway, down the stairs. But she found no such thing. Only finding herself deeper into the same room, before finally drawing herself to halt. Stopping for a moment, throughly exhausted and lethargic, she simply stopped to observe her surroundings. The walls were seemingly made of glass, and Christine could see right through them to the rest of the structure. A castle, the worn brick was smothered with flora.

Winding around the castle, locking it in a tight embrace were buds of violet wisteria, where they did not cover either thick ivy or delicate white flowers did. There was certainly something beautifully eerie about the building. The somewhat overgrown appearance of the darkened castle, and contrast of the light purple wisteria to the heavy faded grey brick was off-putting. furniture was nice, if the design of them was completely foreign to the young princess. Black oak or ivory with either white or purple velvet overtop. Christine found herself so caught up in her surroundings she hardly felt herself being scooped up off of the ground. When she did realize though, a catastrophic wave of terror overtook her. Leaving her perfectly still as a statue.

“Doth thou like thy chambers, sweetling? I’ve designed those especially for thou.” 

To Christine’s immense relief she found that his voice contained not a trace of his furious tone from earlier. If only she could understand him...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey thanks for reading! This chapters a little slow, but I had to get introductions out of the way. The next chapters might come a little slower, ( I’m coming up on my Exams...) This shouldn’t be for very long, but just in case. Once more, of any translation is needed let me know!
> 
> Comment and Review!


	9. Getting to know you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Proper introductions and compromises are found.
> 
> Please Comment & Review, it really makes my day to receive your feedback.

Erik’s fingers intertwined with the girl’s dark hair. She was being very still, like an adorable little statue. One thing he had not expected upon bringing her home was just how upset she would be. He hated to see her cry, hated to see her afraid, after all he’d been watching over her ever since that day he’d met her in the woods. Watched her grow and mature, taking immense joy in simply watching her interact with the world.

She was lucky she’d been taken by him, he justified. It didn’t matter if she was sad for now, she’d soon come around and see just how much he needed her, and just how much she liked it there. Once they were officially married, she could have anything she wanted! Anything at all. She was so pure, so naive. Utterly untouched, she didn’t understand the world. How cold and cruel it could be. And it broke his heart to think she’d ever view him that way, but he knew it was true. She would soon be over it and it wouldn’t matter. Perhaps once she was finally comfortable he could take her to visit her father, he was getting sicker and sicker after all.

She was being childish. It was she who made the promise, and she who’d have to keep it.

Wordlessly, Erik cradled Christine, gently laying her back on the bed and kissing her forehead through the mask. How he longed to feel her warmth instead of the cold porcelain...But with that he left. She needed time, he’d be back again when she could think clearly.

Christine lay on the bed. Head racing, heart pounding, blood rushing. She squeezed the sheets until her knuckles had gone white. She wanted to go home, more than anything else in the world. She wanted to go home. Christine layed there silently crying for an indefinite amount of time. Hiding under her covers like a little girl, with a vague childish hope that she’d wake up in her bed, and be able to run to her father and tell him the horrible dream she’d had. Eventually Christine sat up, her head absolutely throbbing from crying, her stomach twisted and empty, her nose running. But she got up anyway, fumbling her way to a chair by the large glass wall she collapsed there.

It was only a few moments later that Erik came back. He was gentler in his approach this time, sitting himself next to her casually.

“Art thou fill'd with pangs of hunger dear? Thirsty? Thou behold a mess.” 

Christine glared back up at him, her eyes still glistening with tears and her face red and puffy from crying. She was caught in a fierce debate with herself as of wether to shoo him away or accept his help. Barking at him hadn’t worked before, but she reckoned she was too prideful to ever take any help from him.

“ Why do you talk like that? I can’t understand you.” Christine meant to growl, but her voice came as only a feeble sob. Erik sat before her dumbstruck for a long time. He wasn’t sure wether to be angry with her or forgive her and honour her request. He did speak very differently from her, that was certainly true.

“ Would 't please thou for me to speak as thou? Would 't maketh thou more comfortable?” 

Christine continued to sulk, but Erik could feel her mood shifting. “ Yeah. It’d be nice to understand you...”  
Erik was grinning from ear to ear, not that Christine could’ve seen from underneath his mask. Now was only the issue of being unfamiliar with the way she spoke. But furrowing his brow in concentration he attempted to speak to her.

“ A...Are th...you, hungry?” 

Despite herself Christine inwardly chuckled at his awkward attempt at modern speech. She wanted to slap herself internally. What the hell was wrong with her that she found anything he did endearing? He was an old, out-of-touch Faerie that had kidnapped her and wouldn’t leave her alone. He was repulsive in every way. Christine felt his hand on her forearm and only then realized that she hadn’t answered his question.

“ Yeah...I guess so.” Erik was thrilled that she was even talking to him. This was certainly an improvement. He hadn’t been sure what he was expecting when he came back for her, but he certainly had not expected that cold, judgemental glare. Or the absolute frost and venom in the way she spoke. Nor had he expected her to have any sort of lover. But that didn’t matter now, because from now on it was just the two of them, and he’d never have to worry about silly skittle princes or treaties. It was plain and simple for him. She had promised to marry him, the circumstances of such a promise meant nothing as long as he kept his end if the bargain. For Fae it was so much easier, no lying, no going back on an oath.  
A promise was a promise and that’s all that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry it’s been so long! My stupid exams keep in coming, but I haven’t quit this story! This chapters also a little introduction heavy, I’m sorry. There’s also a bit of monologuing. The next chapters should be a bit more fluffy. 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading. Make sure to comment and review. ( Your messages really make me so happy.)


	10. Getting to know all about you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christine and Erik make amends, for now.
> 
> Please comment & Review!

Christine remained sat upon the chair. Completely numb to everything around her. She picked at her thumbs, a bad habit she’d carried over from childhood. Then she settled upon rustling her nightgown. She’d just realized, she was in her nightgown. How awfully improper of her to be speaking with a man in her underwear! Christine frantically rose from her seat, half wanting to change, and half wanting something to do. She made her way to a closet, where once again she was met with the most beautiful dresses she’d ever seen.

After a while of picking, she finally settled in one of pink. The bodice of low cut pink velvet so that you could see the pretty gauze underneath, and embroidered with pink sapphires and quarts. The sleeves and skirt a pretty pink silk with slits to show the fine gauze. It did not take Christine very long to dress, Mama Valerius had always insisted join her learning how to get dressed by herself. After dressing Christine found a vanity and combed her hair, not putting it up or anything, before retiring back to the seat. Erik came back not long after.

 

He held in his hands a tea-tray, with little cookies and of course, the tea itself. Christine couldn’t help but realize how odd the fragile, pretty little teacup looked in the hands of someone so horribly frightening. He placed it on the table on front of her and then sat across, locking his wolflike eyes with her own. 

“ You dressed...you look very pretty.” He said simply, struggling to connect long sentences in this new way of talking, Christine paid him no mind, dully nodding her head. “ Dost You like thine....your...room?” Once again, Erik only received a plain nod in response. They sat in silence for awhile, as Christine held the delicate little teacup in her hands. Watching the liquid tremble along with her. No part of her wanted to engage with her captor, but she felt almost compelled to. The way that he sat, not partaking in anything, or saying anything, just making direct eye contact with her, made her more than uneasy.

“ Why don’t you have any servants? You said you were a king, right?” Christine asked lamely. “ Your Erik has no need, He can use magick to create what He wants.” Christine shuddered at his use of third-person, why this? First the stupid Shakespeare talk and now this? How could she ever marry anyone she couldn’t even hold a normal conversation with? “ You live here all alone, then?” Somewhat more solemnly than she had been expecting, Erik nodded his head. “ I live here all on my lonesome...aye. Faerie kingdoms function differently from human ones. Other Fae must pay tribute to me annually, but we don’t normally have any need to be together. So henceforth, I shall be very happy to be living with a wife!” Christine almost felt a pang of sympathy for the man. Sure, she certainly hadn’t forgiven him, nor would she, but living alone was surely a miserable existence. He struck her as very much a child, one nearly giddy with the thought of having a wife.

“ I am sorry, but I cannot stay here. I cannot be your wife. I need to be with my family, I have a fiancé...” Erik shook his cloaked head violently, “ You can not refuse me! You promised, thou swore to me...” he growled, rising from his seat in anger.   
“ Thou shouldn’t have any fiancé but me! Anything else is adultery, because you swore! You swore! You promised me!” He grabbed her shoulders, gently. His tall frame towering over the small girl. “ You don’t understand, little one. I will take care of you, I will—” Erik was scolding her like a child, and Christine was having none of it. 

“ You cannot treat me like this! I won’t marry you! I won’t!” Christine watched his eyes. He watched the amber slowly swirl in the bottom of his yellow eyes, watching almost fearfully as the amber slowly trickled up, overtaking his whole gaze. Somehow, the burning yellow held nothing in comparison to the amber, which seemed to scald. 

“I wilt not tolerate 't! I wilt not allow thou to go back on thy promise! Thou wilt beest truthful to 't, thou wilt did wed me as we did agree! If 't be true not I shalt beshrew thou and thy family until thou concur to bemine bride! Haply 't is the fault of yond prince? The one thou claim thou art betrothed to? Even though thou art betrothed to me first? Haply I shalt beshrew him as well. Killeth him? Thou wouldn’t marry him then!”

In his fury, Erik had completely neglected speaking in a way Christine could understand. She could understand his meaning well enough from his tone and volume. He found himself pulsating, his body vibrating with that purple steam. He quickly excused himself and left the room, before he truly lost his temper and harmed her.

Christine remained in the same spot. Still for a longtime, before hugging her knees and burrowing her face in the sunset-coloured fabric, crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say, really. Once again, let me know if any translation is needed, and I’d also like to hear verdict on E/C vs R/C as I’ve still yet to fully decide.
> 
> Thanks for reading, Please comment and review!


	11. Getting to like you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apologies and conversation.
> 
> Please comment! It really makes my day <3

Erik spent the night fuming. He hated himself distinctly more than usual. Why did he have to ruin everything? Why did he have to go and frighten her like that? When she had only just stopped crying. He stayed and sulked in his room. He tried to compose, set his mind from it but found he could not. Every note made him think of Christine and that only made him more and more frustrated and angry with himself. Of course she’s afraid, you stupid booby! She doesn’t know where she is and you just had to go and scream at her, right when she was beginning to feel safe. He sat in the dark room, brooding on his infernal temper, before he could take it no longer.

Erik ended up slinking his way into her room, where he found she was still awake. At the sight of him, Christine visibly shrunk. Erik sat at the foot of her bed. He stayed that way for awhile, his pride refusing to allow him to apologize. Instead, he chided the cowering Princess on her own behaviour. “ Thou are being quite....childish.” Erik didn’t get a verbal response, but Christine’s little nose appeared out from under the covers.

“ Erik will admit....he loses his temper sometimes....but thou shouldn’t cry.” Christine slowly pulled herself out from under the covers, revealing herself to the Faerie. “ I wanna go home.”

Erik was silent for a long while, before gently reaching out to hold her little waist, bringing her head up against his chest. She squirmed lightly, but seemed mostly contented with that position. “ I know, I know you do...” his voice was soothing, drifting slowly and gently into Christine’s thoughts.

Christine let herself succumb. She was exhausted, and she lacked the strength to fight. She let him lull her into a feeling of safety, and she didn’t mind when he laid beside her, with his arms wrapped snugly ‘round her waist.

“ I wanna go home.”

“ I want my papa.”

“ Please?”

Each quiet whimper rapidly becoming more desperate than the next, she didn’t mind being held. She wanted to be cradled, and at this point it didn’t matter who it was offering that comfort. She wanted someone to cry too, and despite all better judgement found that in the very person making her cry. Erik himself could do little but stroke her hair and give soothing reassurance.

“ Why?”

“ What?”

“ Why did you ask me to marry you, back when I was only a little kid? Why?”

Erik sighed deeply, “ I told Thou earlier, before our...disagreement, that I live all on my lonesome.” He shifted uncomfortably. “ I’m not sure really. I’d heard of you, I do try to keep up with human affairs, I have lots of spare time after all...” “ Answer the question.” “ You seemed a sweet girl, crying like that...I’d thought then that’d it would be very pleasant to have a girl like you in my house...particularly a grown one, a wife...”

Erik clutched Christine’s slightly chubby cheek between his thumb and index finger. “ And I knew that I’d be capable of taking good care of you.” Christine pulled slightly away, pushing her face into the pillow.

“ Why apologize?”

To that, Erik laughed. Christine found he had a very unusual laugh. He gave what couldn’t have been more than a chuckle but the sound was dark and made Christine’s skin crawl. “ Because I love you, and I must apologize when I hurt you.”

“ When will you apologize for kidnapping me?”

“ I didn’t kidnap you. You agreed to my collecting you, and that’s what I did.” Erik scoffed. “ Frankly darling, you ought to apologize to me for having a fiancé.”

“ That’s not my fault.”

Erik could feel his temper flairing again, so instead he rapidly changed the subject.

“ You like singing, I compose in my spare time, so perhaps we could try that tomorrow.”

“ Perhaps. Erik?”

“ Yes, sweetling?”

Christine’s face turned scarlet, embarrassed to ask her question. “ Will you stay? I don’t think I can lie here alone.”

Erik smiled, and soon he found, Christine was fast asleep. Erik slept that way too, and for the first time in his miserable life he slept without any nightmares. He woke before Christine, although he did not move, only savouring the moment he had, clutching her body to his own, calming himself with her soft rhythmic breathing. Even in this dreamlike state however, his mind wandered to the boy. The infernal boy that Christine had made her fiancé. Even when things were going well he’d get mentioned and spoil everything immediately. He’d have to deal with the boy, sooner or later. Because, like all foolish humans, he’d eventually come for Christine, and it wouldn’t matter to him if the odds were stacked well against him.

Erik’s mind wandered, it was bad to kill him. He knew that much, he knew it wasn’t really the boy’s fault but still it angered him to think of the boy. Erik wasn’t fond of humans in general. Christine was really the only exception. For the most part Erik found humans irritating, their obnoxious determination and pathetic vulnerability. Useless, unfortunate creatures, designed with little defence and with more spirit than ever a powerless little species ought to have. Stupidly gullible, annoyingly persistent. And Erik was rather certain that Christine’s beloved boy could be no different from the common human filth.

He heaved himself from his place, gingerly rubbing Christine’s temples. A small spell, it’d keep her sleeping at least for awhile. After all, Erik couldn’t be interrupted, he had a visit to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry for how long it’s been. I’ve literally got nothing to blame but my own laziness...I’m sorry! Although, for you E/C people, here’s a little fluff.
> 
> Please comment and review!


	12. Dimly lit duel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raoul finds himself in a curious duel, with no clear winner.
> 
> Comment and Review!

Raoul later in bed. Not aware of the noise surrounding him. Nothing seemed real anymore, nothing at all. It was like he’d been placed in a dreamlike haze ever since Christine vanished. He had become much like a lost puppy wanting after its master. His whole being emanating a sense of dread and misery.

He hadn’t slept. He couldn’t allow himself to, not when he didn’t know if she was safe. His brother had been the one to force him into his chambers, at the insistence of a shrewish Madame Giry. He craved to be out on his horse looking for her. His room was still, nothing but the steady, irritating thunder of his heartbeat in his ears. So it came as quite a sudden shock to hear footsteps. 

The room was dark, but Raoul made his way to his fencing sword anyway. Not the sharpest thing, but strong enough to defend himself with.

“ I know you’re here.” 

Raoul nervously pranced around the room, his hands groping the swords handle as he carefully scanned the dimly lit room. His shadow illuminated only by a few sparse candles, but the feel of his sword came naturally. He’d trained with one from such a young age, his footing came to him like breath.

“ For God's sake come out you bastard!” 

And Raoul watched with focused eyes as a shape formed in the darkness. A man’s form, unfamiliar yet familiar all the same, a silhouette he’d seen before, if it was impossible to remember quite where. A dream, a nightmare, the sort of silhouette you saw on your bedroom wall as a child. The one you’d brush off only as a whisp of a shadow, but hide under your covers from all the same.

Raoul couldn’t help but notice it’s hideous eyes. Yellow like a wasp, and glowing with hues of gold and sparks of orange. He hated them. They were horrible, monsterous things, burning with an emotion Raoul could only describe as fury. The kind of fury that started wars, that drove a predator to pounce. He hated those eyes, those terrible, ugly, smouldering things.

He pointed his sword at the figure , tilting it like second nature, cocking his head back and bending his knees. He didn’t know this man. He didn’t know why he was there, but he hated him. And he got the sensation that the amber eyed creature hated him too. Perhaps more, but Raoul could never be truly sure.

“ Well? Do you speak?”

His frustration bubbled forward, like an overflowing tea kettle. Anger intertwined with bravado and fear pushed him forward, goading the creature into a fight. 

There was silence, a slight shuffle of the silhouette. 

“ Well!”

Raoul shouted, his throat going hoarse from such a violent yell. He was tired, and mad, and scared.

“ Well, I know what you are!” 

He screamed, a sudden realization dawning upon him.

“ I know who you are!” 

“ If you are truly as powerful as you say you are, fight me you coward!”

He charged forward, eyes closed, sword aimed to kill. He opened his eyes, there was nothing there, nothing but a torn curtain. 

“ I’ll find her, you bastard.” He hissed, cussing out the empty room.

 

Raoul was even more determined from the encounter, at least the demon haunting him was real, he knew that much. And, seemingly, a coward. He left his room, storming past the guards and into the stables, where Madame Giry happened to be.

“ Where are you going!?” 

The old woman squealed, much to Raoul’s dismay. 

“ To find my fiancée!” He roared, leaping onto his horse and ignoring the protesting old woman, had he not known any better, he’d have thought she was trying to stop him. But the woman was relentless,

“ This isn’t wise!”

“Stop!”

“ You let him be, you old crone.”

A new voice interjected. A voice with an accent that the young prince hadn’t heard before. A cloaked man stepped forward, with deep green eyes and brown skin.

“ He is allowed to search, do not impead him.”

Raoul brought his horse to a stop by the man. “ Who are you?” The man looked up, his eyes swirling with understanding. 

“ I am Nadir Khan, brought in by the aging king to assist in the efforts. You could say I have previous Fae experiences.”

Raoul smiled, “ Well, Mr. Khan, would you care to come with me?”

Raoul watched with glee as the man’s smile twitched upward, “ That’s what I’m here to do.”

Erik left satisfied. His hypothesis had proven to be correct. The boy was every bit as impatient and persistent as he thought he’d be. That little prince was going to be a problem, and sooner or later he’d have to be dealt with. Erik had spared his life then, thinking of Christine. She wouldn’t want the boy to die, and Erik had made her hate him enough already.

Sure she’d spent the night with him, but he’d manipulated her into it. It was hardly a true show of affection...although his mind wandered back to the Prince. He’d be less of a problem if the rumours about Nadir were true....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys...sorry it’s been so long. It because I’m a lazy good-for-nothing and I’m sorry hopefully this chapter makes up for it.
> 
> As always, thanks so much for reading and commenting. Your comments literally make my day and I’m always so hyped to read them. Thank you!


	13. Bubbly rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik’s late. Christine just wants to be held.
> 
>  
> 
> Comment and review! <3

Christine woke up with a splitting headache. Erik had taken his time on his visit, and underestimated how long he was going to be. Christine reached out and felt the sheets near her, she’d slept beside someone that night....she knew it was Erik. But it had brought her great comfort to close her eyes and pretend she was safe in the arms of Raoul.

She got up, stretching, and walked to the window. She took more clear notice of her surroundings, the old worn brick of the building, the delicate lilac coloured wisteria hanging from the structure. It looked like a painting, a beautiful, melancholy painting.

She didn’t bother dressing, it didn’t matter. She didn’t know where Erik was, that also didn’t matter. She walked plainly to the door, opening it and walking out.

Christine let her legs carry her, as if under a trance. She didn’t know where she was going or why, but she felt somehow sure. Numbly walking down flights of staircases, dully walking into a main floor living room. The walls, like the ones in her bedroom, were covered by glass. But Christine noticed a little latch on one of them, pulling on the latch, the door opened.  
And Christine carried on outside. She began to run. She wanted to go home, she wanted to get away. She ran and ran and ran. Not paying any attention to her surroundings.

Why had she trusted him? Why had she made herself so vulnerable to him? Why had she let him hold her? She didn’t love him. She didn’t hate him. She didn’t know what to think.

 

She passed a flower garden, a stone, a little creek, and then the full castle. She ran freely, her feet blending with the soft wet earth beneath them. She noted how pretty a patch of flowers were, the size of a boulder, the babbling of a little brook. She paid no attention to the new splattering of rain, not even noticing when it soaked her to the very skin.  
It took her sometime before she realized that whatever direction she ran in she was going in circles. She came back to the old worn castle and felt flashes. Hot, cold, cold, hot, burning, sick, freezing. And there, in the rain, Christine fell. 

Why am I here? Why can’t I go home? What’s the point? I can’t get out. I can’t get out. I can’t get out.

Her mind raced, wild and untameable thoughts rushing. The rain pounded harder, penetrating her very being, gnawing at her core.

I wanna go home. I can’t go home. I wanna marry Raoul. I can’t marry Raoul.

Pain, a hot ache that distracted her from the now pelting rain.

I wanna go inside. I should go inside. I should have a bath. I should comb my hair. I should get dressed. I want Raoul to hold me. Raoul can’t hold me. I want someone to hold me. I’ll get Erik to hold me. I should find Erik.

Christine took a deep breath. She inhaled the almost salty smell of the rain, relishing in it for a while, before acting on her wishes.

She pulled herself up, wandering back in to the castle, considerably colder, wetter, and exhausted. And yet, considerably more at peace than she had been.

She wandered upstairs, drawing herself a bath. In this bath she threw everything she could find; every scented oil, every sweet-smelling soap. And she filled it to the brim with bubbles.

She eased her body into the hot water, taking the sponge and washing herself. She slipped, dropping the sponge into the soapy mess of bubbles, and lacking even the slightest motivation to find it, she drew her knees up to her chin, and she cried.

She cried, and cried, and cried. She cried until she no longer knew why she was crying. Taking gasps of air, plunging herself back into the bubbles. She washed her hair, and then dried herself off.

She put back on a nightgown, although a new one. One not stained with mud and rain. She sat at the vanity in her room and combed her hair. Leaving the brush on the table, she walked back downstairs. 

She wanted to be held, she wanted someone to cuddle her and tell her everything would be okay. She wanted Raoul to do that, but he couldn’t. And so, for the time being, Erik would have to do as a replacement. Christine thought of Raoul. Was he worried for her? Surely. Was he looking? She hoped so.

Erik came home to find Christine cuddled up on a plush chair, she was fast asleep. Gingerly, he picked her up. She opened her eyes immediately.

“ Where were you? I was crying. I looked everywhere for you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyy guyyyssss. I’m sorry it’s been so long. ( I say that every time...sorry.) I dont have much to say here, other than let me know which ship you want. E/C or R/C.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading and commenting!


	14. Twice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am horrible and lazy and I’m sorry.
> 
> Madame Giry sets off on her own. Erik talks with Christine.
> 
> Comment and review!

the old raven-haired Madame stood in the rain. She was a dour looking figure, cloaked all in black and wearing a firm scoul upon her stern features. She had no reaction to the pouring rain which drenched her funeral-like attire.

Who was he to be meddling in things beyond his control? To pick a duel with something pre-determined? And who was that old Persian to help him?

Giry knew Erik wouldn’t be pleased by it. He’d be furious. Absolutely livid. He’d kill him, and Nadir, if it came to it. And it very well might...

The boy could easily find another. It was not in anyone’s best interest that he carried on his little charade. And it was certainly not in the best interest of Giry or her daughter.

The rain was pounding, yet, despite her age Giry called for the stable boy to bring her horse from the stable. She had to solve this. And so, the aged woman mounted her black horse, stealing into the rain like an undertaker.

 

Erik was baffled when he found Christine, not only awake, but asking for him. 

That’s an improvement!

He struggled to contain his excitement as he carried her up the stairs. He was thankful for the mask, which hid his jubilation. He laid her down on the bed and she didn’t cry. She sat herself up and looked him square in the eye.

“ Where did you go?”

Erik didn’t know how to respond. He’d planned on never having her know he’d even left but that was out the window. What was he to say?

“ I went with the intention of killing your sweetheart, didn’t end up doing it, saving that for another day. Sorry I took so long.” 

She’d be horrified. Of course she would be. Everything about him horrified her and Erik was well aware of that.

“ Thine Erik had an appointment.” 

Was all that ended up leaving his concealed lips. She gazed at him, her eyes inscrutable and suspicious. 

“ Whatever your appointment was there’s no reason you should’ve taken so long.” 

“ I know, and I apologize.” 

He swallowed. Why did such a little girl hold such power over him? Why did he seek her approval so desperately? Why did the thought of upsetting or letting her down make him such a mess? How could a mortal enchant him so? Those things evaded Erik, and he simply stared back into Christine’s deep brown eyes. He felt like a naughty child, like he’d been disobedient and was now facing a punishment. Christine couldn’t punish him. That’s not true...Erik’s mind corrected. She can cry, she can ignore you, you’d hate that very much.

Christine herself was in inner consternation. Why did he seem so innocent? She knew he wasn’t. Why was he so captivating? He was just like a child! Irritable, angry, Impaitent and impulsive...kind, well-meaning...approval seeking...Why did she pity him? He didn’t deserve pity. For all she knew he’d just gone off and killed someone.

Awkwardly picking at his fingers Erik sat beside her. Christine turned to face him, dead in the eye. 

“ How old are you?”

Christine didn’t know why she’d asked the question then. She’d been wondering it for a long time, and the question fell from her lips then.

“ Far older than you’d care to know.” 

Erik deflected, brushing off her question with little grace.

“ A straight answer never hurt anyone.” 

Christine whined. She was tired of his side-stepping. She was exhausted of being treated like a child. Why did he have to keep up that image? He expected her to love him and yet he’d act like a stone-cold enigma?

“ A straight answer has hurt fragile little girls like you.”

Christine narrowed her eyes.

“ You take me for fragile because of an encounter we had when I was seven years old?” 

A low, gruff laughter came from the man before her.

“ I suppose...I suppose so.” Erik chuckled once more.

“ You’re a feisty little thing, once you get past the crying.” 

Erik added, poking at the young princesses ego.

Christine’s cheeks turned bright pink, her angry gaze cast to the marble vase of lilacs staring at her.

“ Why can’t you answer a question?”

“ If you must know I’m not quite sure. Somewhere between forty thousand and sixty thousand, give or take.” 

Christine’s eyes widened in surprise.

“ How do you loose track of millennia?”

Erik sighed in response, “ It’s easy when you don’t care.” 

His fingers straddled the sheets, “ In any case, we are to be married soon.” 

“ We are not married now?”

Erik shook his head firmly.

“ No, not yet. We have to have a ceremony still...just like a proper marriage. And we must be married twice anyway...”

Erik slipped a finger underneath his mask and rubbed his temples.

“Twice?”

“ Once for your world, once for mine, and then a third ceremony.”

Christine gave him a look, and Erik knew what it meant.

“ Third ceremony because you can’t stay human, you must become Fae.” 

“ Why!?”

“ Because right now you’re mortal and I don’t want to outlive my wife!” Erik snapped.

Christine said nothing in response to his outburst, and Erik quickly excused himself from the room.

Two marriages? Why did everything have to be so complicated?

Erik took his time sulking away to his own room. Why did every interaction end like this? Why? Why did that stupid boy have to be there? Why did Nadir have to come? Why couldn’t Madame Giry and her little brat of a daughter to their job? Why did he have to solve everything himself?

Why was it such a crime to not want to have to solve everything by himself!? Why did fate curse him having a wife? Why was he condemned to loneliness, when every other living creature was loved?

It didn’t matter. She was coming around, slowly, but surely. What was it she had said? 

“ I looked for you everywhere.” 

She wanted him. If she acknowledged it or not she wanted him. Craved his companionship, needed his company. She needed him. She was no longer crying, she accepted his help, she talked to him. And soon they’d get married and he’d never have to worry about any of it ever again. Then he’d have a wife and he could be happy like other people. He wouldn’t have to live a life all on his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I’m late, ( as always...) but please let me know your thoughts on the ship, comments are always greatly appreciated!


	15. Update!

Hey, this is just a quick check-in. I’m on vacation for the month of July, so sadly there might not be any updates. I’m very sorry! My wifi here is....shoddy, at best. I’ve not given up, and you can expect plenty more in the future!


	16. Orpheus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been forever I apologize! I’m back from vacation.
> 
> Please, please, comment and review! Thanks a million!

Raoul’s hair is dripping with water and his coat slick from rain. The pathway leading to the forest ahead is muddy and slippery. His horse is anxious and so is the strange man in front of him.

What am I doing? I don’t know this man...

The thoughts that ran through him are treacherous to his aching heart. He swallows them down. The man’s strangely glittering emerald eyes, gestured to the black-trunked trees before him. He can’t go back. It’s not for his sake, it’s for hers after all. Can’t go back. Can’t go back. For a moment he’s reminded. Reminded of a story he was told when he was younger. The story of the young hero Orpheus, and his duty to Eurydice.

Orpheus failed, Raoul knows he can’t. And as he faces the gates of what appears to be an underworld of thick brush and greenery, he can’t help but think of the strange man guiding him as Apollo. And that gruesome hades-like creature he’d seen in his chamber...

 

He dispelled the thought with the stirrups of his horse. It was pelting rain but Had converted into mere sprinklings. Raoul’s heart swelled so large it no longer fit in his chest. He follows Nadir. There’s nothing else he can do.

 

Christine tired of crying. She dressed and sat silently in a parlour room. Quiet, the man in front of her looked at her like he was dreaming.

“ Erik?” 

Her soft squeak of a call spun the Faerie round like a soldier at attention.

“ Yes, My love?” 

He asks, like a loyal dog; at her every beck and call. 

“ Erik I’m bored here.” 

It’s not what he was expecting but it cuts him deep nonetheless.

“ Would thou....would you like to do something with me?” He draws out the last word, breathing it like a prayer, as if nobody’s ever asked such a thing, or has ever accepted. 

“ What else is there to do?” 

Erik beamed from beneath the mask. He walked towards Christine, taking her little hand in his own, “ Do you want to play a game? We could play music...” 

 

“ Oh, I know!” Christine watched his tawny inhuman eyes light up like stars. “ I could take thee for a walk!” 

“ Oh yes, we could go over by the little creek, and then we can...” 

“ Okay Erik, I’ll come with you for a walk.” Christine agreed, eyeing him with curiosity.

Erik himself had never offered to take her out before, Christine thought. Perhaps he knew she wouldn’t run. And to be fair, Christine knew she wouldn’t. What was the point? To run around and around in circles only to be caught again? And it’s not like Erik was cruel or anything. Save, of course, for kidnapping.

Erik’s true excitement was revealed to Christine when they reached their destination. A pretty meadow, with a large thick willow tree standing firm and tall. Bent over as a natural curtain. There were wildflowers, little violet pansies and chrysanthemums. Disturbingly to Christine, the forest seemed very....empty. No chittering squirrels or birdsong or buzz from insects that normally would be heard throughout a meadow, just the awkward rustle of the wind and rush of a creek. Erik laid out a blanket over the grass under the tree, and then they both sat to rest.

Erik’s gaze never fell from her. Christine noted that look in his eyes, which seemed considerably less frightening than they had when she had first seen them. The cold, animalistic, haughty eyes that had unsettled her that night in her father’s throne room, seemed bright and child-like. Excitable and doting. They screamed for attention, like a toddler every-so-often stealing glances at its mother. Christine couldn’t deny him that. 

“ It’s lovely here.” 

Erik broke from his trance reassuming his domineering and haughty persona, cocking his head up above Christine’s.

“ I thought you would. It’s not good for thou to stay inside so constantly.” 

Christine smiled, not wanting so insult but merely ask;

“ Why aren’t there any animals here?” 

Erik chuckled as if it was simply the most obvious thing in the world. Somehow the arrogance that generally annoyed and angered her made her feel playful and happy. What a strange thought.

“ Little animals avoid the Fae. And so you will not see many here. They do live here; but they can sense my arrival and they flee. Rightfully so, I assume.”

“ Oh.” Christine muttered gently. 

“ Do you love me?” Erik asked abruptly, his eyes flashing. Christine sat in a stoic silence, a million thoughts swimming through her head.

Why ask me this? Why now? What? This is so sudden?

But there was a louder undercurrent.

Do I love him? Surely not. I hate him! No, no, I don’t hate him. Do I like him? No-yes-sometimes...But love? No! How can I love him when I love Raoul so dearly? What even is love? An affection for someone, a want to be around them, enjoyment of their company...I do love him! No I don’t! I love Raoul! Don’t I? Yes I do. Then how can I love Erik? I can’t! But I do? But I can’t love both Raoul and Erik, surely! I love Raoul more, obviously. I know that’s true.

And yet it shook Christine to her core to think that she loved Erik. It felt like a betrayal! She loved Raoul still, but Erik too! And in her flurry of thoughts she had forgotten to answer the eager Faerie’s question.

Erik was still. He could see the feelings through Christine’s almost overly-expressive eyes. Surprise, certainty, confusion, happiness, horror.

And he waited still for even longer and revived no answer.

“ Christine?” 

Two large brown eyes, almost teary with frustration, glanced back at him.

“ No. no, I don’t love you.” She lied through her teeth. She could never let him know, for if he knew he’d never let her leave him.

She watched his eyes drop, the prideful fire dim and smoulder into a frail puff of smoke.

“ Ah! Then you hate me still...” Erik’s facade of confidence cracked, revealing a desperate, pleading man. More human than he’d ever like to admit.

“No, no! I don’t hate you, I just...I don’t know how exactly I feel.” Christine half-lied.

Erik regarded her carefully. “ Then you can love me. Eventually.” He said, in a voice lined with a mixture of hope and finality. 

Why was he so impossible to read? Why did he have to hide everything. Especially under that ugly porcelain mask. Christine thought, bitterly. And it was then that her small white fist gripped Erik’s cool white mask.


	17. Not the man I once was.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m back! This chapter takes some more inspiration from the princess and the goblin than previous ones; can you guess where it is?
> 
> Please give me Your opinions on which ship, because I’m very indecisive and still not sure...
> 
> Thank you for reading!

The Faerie king was distracted, but Christine’s cool brown gaze was focused, her fingers sure; more so than even she was. Three seconds. The bend of her fingers. The cool porcelain beneath. The flick of her wrist. 

 

Miraculously the air left Christine’s lungs. She fell back. Her eyes half closed. The feeling of her head slamming the ground shut them completely. She hadn’t even caught so much as a glance.

 

She opened her eyes; a woman leaned over her. She was pretty, with long white hair that cascaded like a luscious waterfall all the way down to her knees, and luminous eyes. Gently the woman tucked a hand beneath Christine’s head. Safe, Christine felt safe.

 

Her eyes fluttered around the room, wooden walls with cob-webbed corners, dusty shelves, old books. A red scarf dangling over a piece of furniture, next to the violin and the locket, the smell of must and adventure. 

 

Her attic.

 

Her childhood play-room, exactly as she recalled it. She and Raoul spent countless hours up there, playing. It was a flood of warm, nostalgic memories, like sugary molasses clouding Christine’s every sense. The violin, her father, when he could; used to sneak away from his duties and play for the two of them, and they loved it. The bright cherry-red scarf, her favourite, that she had almost lost the ocean; but it was rescued by Raoul, who dove in after it. Her little silver locket, the one shaped like a windflower. She used to fill it with dried lavender, and it always carried the sent. The picture inside was a little portrait of her great-great-grandmother.

She came from the far north a very long time ago, and was a thousand years dead by the time Christine was ever born. She was the first ever Queen of her nation, and she certainly looked the part of an ancient Queen;

A stoic, ethereal woman, with glittering eyes and thick white hair. Despite her age, she stood up straight dignified, regal, a Queen. She was old, weary, but youthful and beautiful. A rich silvery gown that seemed to be woven of moonbeamed and embellished by stardust, a gleaming silver circlet hung gently upon her brow. The woman leaning over her.

 

_ The woman leaning over her. _

 

Christine sprung up, the woman smiled, knowingly.

 

“Why are you here? Who are you?”

 

“ Your great-great-grandmother, and I’m here to take care of you.” 

 

“ Oh?”

 

“ What do you need?”

 

“ I need to go home.” 

 

“ Are you certain that’s what you wish?”

  
  


Christine awoke in a cold sweat, her cheeks blush. Tucked into a bed—the usual one; with the white and black and purple velvet covers. Two increasingly familiar yellow sparks beside her.

  
  


Raoul was soaked to the skin; his red-turned-crimson cloak dripping with water. The man and him had stopped briefly, taking shelter in an abandoned cabin.

 

After wringing out his cape, he sat down in a dusty old chair. China blue eyes never leaving the strange man before him. 

 

“ Where are we going? Why are you helping me?” Raoul asked point-blank. He got no response. He wondered for a moment if he’d been too direct, or too impatient.

 

“ I apologize for being blunt but I—-” 

 

“ No, No.” Nadir sputtered, Turning around to face his young companion.

 

“ You’re right. I’ve barely explained anything.” His voice was tired. It spoke of years, years of things Raoul couldn’t even begin to imagine.

 

He took his seat beside him.

 

“ It’s a duty of sorts.”

 

He said, cryptically.

 

“ You need your fiancé back, and there’s not a soul other than me who can begin to help you. I’ve been there before. I’ve met faeries before. I’ve met  _ Him before.” _

 

_ He  _ was an unspoken knowledge between the two of them.

 

“ The Faerie realm is fickle, you often lose things there; and I have and I must get it back. Not only that,  _ he  _ is someone I once knew somewhat well..well as a mortal can know a Faerie, anyway. He’s dangerous, and that little girl is in real danger around him. He won’t harm her immediately don’t fear, we’ve still got time, but we must hurry!” The darkened man rambled in a frantic panicked murmur that the young prince struggled to keep in pace with. “ I cannot in good conscience do nothing to help. But I cannot go alone. I lack the willpower—I am aging, I’m not the man that I once was.” He slowed, “ I was strong once, but I am no longer. I would’ve been able once.....” 

He drifted.

 

“ Who were you?” 

 

“ I was a mage, once.” 


	18. Weakness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ain’t great, but I hope you like it.
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated.

Erik passively watched Christine tumble, watching the cool porcelain of his mask go with her. He did not catch her, he willingly let her fall. Without it he felt exposed, vulnerable.    
  
He diligently observed Christine lay upon the blanket, watching her delicate chest heave up and down. Her lips slightly agape, long eyelashes tickling her rosy cheeks. Coolly, he assumed his mask from her little fingers, and reapplied it.   
  
He felt angry—though not truly  _ angry _ . He felt that anger was undoubtedly the only appropriate emotion to feel; but he did not feel it. It was unfathomable be furious with the darling angel before him, her chocolate curls framing her fragile skull.   
  
How was it that even her bones were weak? Tender bones made of milk.  How beautiful she would look in her wedding gown. Her hair engulfed in a glistening veil, framed by pink roses, her whole being glittering.

  
He carefully picked her up, and solemnly took her back to the castle.

  
Christine gently woke to Erik’s scalding eyes, burning with a cool heat, setting her frightened heart a flutter in her ample chest.

 

He seemed to be composed, and she tentatively called out to him. 

 

“ Erik?”

 

He nodded.

 

“ Erik are you displeased with me?”

 

He shook his head.

 

“ Do not touch my mask again.”

 

It was Christine’s turn to nod silently.

  
  


He rose eagerly and lay comfortably beside her. Christine shifted uncomfortably. Although they had done this before, she shuddered convulsively with awkward discomfort.   
  
“ My Precious darling?”   
  
“ What?”    
  
“ I’ve thought carefully about it, and I’ve decided we will be married—in the human custom tomorrow,”   
  
“  _ Tomorrow!?” _

 


	19. Mortal man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a prince a mage and a Faerie wood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyyyyy. It’s been a minute. Well, maybe not a minute....about a month or two...I’ve just been settling into my first year of high school, so forgive me my infrequent updates. Please please please comment, it doesn’t matter what, I read and appreciate them all. They help with the motivation, lol. Feedback always welcome.

Ride, stop, look, ride repeat. Ride, stop, look, ride repeat. Ride, stop, look, ride repeat. Raoul repeated the mantra his elder companion had taught him. 

 

No longer were they in safe territory; no, they had crossed into Faerieland. One could never be too careful on such a treacherous backwards place, so dripping with foreign beauty it might lull you into letting down your guard.

 

An especially dangerous fate if you were a mortal man, and Raoul was. So he obeyed his wearied guide willingly.

 

Nadir, on the other hand was wracked with nagging guilt. Bogged down with the weight of protecting the boy from all that would wish him harm here; and that was everything. And soon, it would be active, soon as the Faerie King knew of his rival. But it was not only the responsibility of the boy that the wisened mage shouldered, but also the weight of long-forgotten friendships. He had lived in the Faerieland, grown to know Erik, to pity and to fear him. And it was that worry which kept him both so vigilant and so fatigued.

 

Raoul was far too busy caught up in his own worries to notice Nadir’s. He prayed Christine was alright, and hoped to heaven that the Faerie had dealt her no harm. Despite trying, he struggled to comprehend why he and his guide had to stop and examine the area so often. _Was Christine’s situation not urgent? Did his companion not understand the danger she was in?_ He struggled to be calm. And truly, how could Raoul be calm if his fiancée was in the possession of a madman! Raoul was growing more and more frantic and impatient.  Every second she was with that lunatic was a second she could be hurt.

 

And it seemed to the young prince, that the paranoid old magician was wasting precious time. And maybe he was. 

 

“ Come now Sir, we haven’t any time!” The antsy Prince barked. Nadir knew he meant no harm. He was only a child, that much was clear from the look of him. He was a young man of good stature, his body muscular from years of naval exploration. His features were youthful, and his clean-shaven face was proof of that. His behaviour only proved that he was a child. The bold way he carried himself to the way he exuded a certain boyish bravado. It was plain that he was young, inexperienced, and believed the world to be more simple than it was.

 

_ If only I carried the same luxury of innocence.  _ No!  _ Now is not the time to dwell on the past. More important matters at hand. _

  
  


But the elder man could tell his heart was in the right place. He was afraid. Perhaps not for himself, but certainly for his fiancée, and clearly the paranoia that clouded his mind was leading him to make rash actions. “ We must have caution here, we are in his domain now.” He warned the Prince. As he lead the boy through the forests, he felt an odd father-like sensation. He had never had a child, but he was certainly old enough to be Raoul’s father. There were times he wished he’d had a son, one that he could teach life-lessons to, and watch mature.

 

_ Too late now.  _ He thought.  _ Best to wait and save both our skins. _

  
  
  
  
  
  



	20. And never, since the middle summer's spring,  Met we on hill, in dale, forest or mead,

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By paved fountain or by rushy brook,  
> Or in the beached margent of the sea,  
> To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyyyyyy. It’s been awhile........I’m back though!

The leaves against her back were cold and dew-laden. The milky white flesh shimmered against the sweating emerald foliage. The air was thick with the scent of honeysuckle and ivy. Her cheeks and mouth stained red with fairy kisses. Each kiss is to forget, two for her forehead, three for her cheeks, six for her neck and and one for her mouth. The earth seemed to consume and coddle her, cradling her in a bed of spider-silk. Her squishy mortal body pounding at the beck of her heartbeat. Her eyelashes are kissed too, and then she’ll forget again, and when she wakes up again she’ll cry without understanding why she is so melancholy, until she’s kissed again. Her little body bared against the moonlight, vibrant and pure and lily white. Crushed rosehip tinting her fingertips scarlet and she opened her little red mouth to gasp. She was very, very far from home.

And yet, she couldn’t remember why. Or who the masked creature who glowereddown at her was. She only knew her own heartbeat, and his, slower and languid. He is sorry. He is rampant in his apology and though she doesn’t know what he’s apologizing for she forgives him.

And he smileed and he picked her up. And though she is bared nude she doesn't mind. And he lifted a little garland of honeysuckle and roses and puts it on the crown of her head. He wore something similar, thicket and purple chrysanthemums, and he raised the mask just a little, apologized just once more, and stole a kiss from her. And then in turn, six more, seven in total, she thinks, and then he came so very close, so very, very close, let seven breaths rise and fall, and then he spoke.  
“ Christine, look at you, so very beautiful.” And so, Christine let seven breaths rise and fall.  
“ Erik, I love you, I love you,” 

And he held her, and she felt like her back was splitting open but when she turned around she had little wings. Little and white and iridescent, swirling at the tips. She looksed carefully, he-Erik, has wings too, they look like cicada wings fluttering in excitement. She fluttered her own and it made her cheeks even redder than before.

“ Christine, look.” And she did, and the world is at once familiar and strange. It is a brick castle, and newly green with foliage she has not seen before.

“ Christine, one day truly forgive me for this,” 

And then there is nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think! Let me know if you need a translation of all the old English. This was a stupid idea but off I go—


End file.
